


Burnt Coffee and Redundant Tea

by NoBrandHero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoBrandHero/pseuds/NoBrandHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat doesn't have the temperament for working at a coffee shop. He especially doesn't have the temperament for handling customers like John Egbert. Good thing for his job security that John just finds him funny instead of offensive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burnt Coffee and Redundant Tea

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd write a coffee shop AU (they just do not hold my attention), but then I got inspired by [some cute Johnkat art by Tumblr user Meruz](http://meruz.tumblr.com/post/83493459610) and here we are.

Opening shifts are the fucking worst at Starbucks. Not only are you awake at ass o'clock, but you're swallowing every justified curse and putting on the fakest cheer you can muster as you're bombarded with orders from impatient assholes on their way to jobs that probably pay ten times as much as yours. For twice the fun, you're usually still on your shift for the lunch rush too. And you'd said on your application that you only wanted to work evenings. Fuck everything.

Sure you could quit, but in this crap economy and with your level of job experience (and your place on the hemospectrum), it's either the coffee serving business or McDonald's. Even white hipsters with stupid complicated mocha orders are more tolerable than soccer moms and their screeching hellspawn.

At least there are those precious few quiet moments before the morning rush piles on you for their usual commute coffee. You try to savor the silence -- silence ruined by awful music that wants to present itself as hipster-indie so damn bad despite sitting pretty on the top forty, but anything's better than the chittering of customers.

The front door opens and you tense in anticipation of the first of many customers you'll be interacting with in the next hour. This one gives you a bad feeling from the get-go. He's a human, around your age as either an older high schooler or a younger college student, and he stares around the store like a lost tourist, his wide eyes amplified by his thick glasses.

He stands by the food case for a moment, just studying the baked goods, before he wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. He heads to the cash register.

You can't smile on command to save your life -- even your coworkers have said it looks like you're baring your teeth when you try -- so you just keep your scowl minimal as you greet him.

"Hi, um..." He peers at your name tag and you resist the urge to cover it just to spite him. He grins and his teeth are huge for a human. "Karkat! Heh, that's a funny name."

_Wow, you can read. Congratulations. Read the goddamn menu instead_ , you think, giving him your dullest glare. "What can I do for you today, sir?" you say in monotone, because if you don't use monotone you'll just fall back on shouting and you'll get written up again.

"Um..." He stares at the menu for long enough that you want to tap your foot. "What's the... hazelnut macchiato?"

"Espresso, milk, and vanilla with hazelnut syrup on top."

"Is it good?"

What the hell is he talking about? Nothing is good at Starbucks. "If you like hazelnut and vanilla lattes," you say, since you're not actually allowed to be honest about what everyone already knows.

He nods but just goes back to staring at the menu. "What about the espresso con panna?"

"Fancy term for espresso with Reddi Wip."

"Is that good?"

You sigh and concentrate on not clenching your teeth. "If you like cheap whipped cream."

"Okay," he says, and for a split second you get your hopes up that he's made up his mind, but nope. Back to the menu to find something new to pester you about.

This guy is giving you a headache. A small line forms behind him, but your excuse to hurry him along is stolen when your co-worker opens the register next to yours to wait on customers less indecisive than this bucktoothed moron.

You swear you've gone over half the menu with him. Your anger's gone full circle from the verge of boiling to just a numb, bored rage.

"What's a chai tea latte?" he asks.

"Chai is an Indian spiced tea with milk. The 'tea latte' part is redundant-" _you dumb fuck_ , you add mentally, "-so you don't have to actually say it."

He points over your shoulder. "The menu says 'tea latte' too."

"The menu is stupid." You bite back the "you have a lot in common with it" sitting on your lingual muscle.

"So is your redundant Indian tea any good?"

"Here?" you say, too exasperated to censor yourself entirely. "Fu- heck no, it's watered down until it tastes like sweet milk."

"Guess I should skip that then." He hums to himself as if the rest of the world has just as much time to kill as he does. "Is it true you have a secret menu?"

"If I find the crap-eating bulgefuck who keeps spreading that goddamn rumor, I will serve him our worst burnt coffee made with a helping of load gaper water!" The words are barely out of your mouth before your eyes widen. Oh fuck. You finally did it. You snapped at a customer. He's going to demand to see your manager and you are five kinds of fired.

To your shock, instead of huffing up and shaking a finger at you as happens when you so much as spell a customer's name wrong, the idiot cracks up. "Oh my god, please tell me all Starbucks are this funny."

You gape. "What? What, no. Why the hell would you think that was normal? Haven't you ever been in a Starbucks before?"

He's too busy laughing to reply properly, but something about the look he gives you makes everything fall into place.

"You've never been in a Starbucks before," you say flatly.

He shakes his head. "I never lived near one 'til last week. My local coffee shop only had regular coffee and cocoa on the menu."

Well, that explains a little. He's still a moron. But he's a moron who thinks you're funny instead of trying to get you sacked, so you guess you should appreciate that. "So you're under the mistaken impression that Starbucks is a treat?"

"Well, you're really popular, aren't you?" he says, still grinning. You don't know what to say to that. "Okay, one last thing. What's your normal coffee like?"

You glance around to make sure no one can overhear before you say bluntly, "Burnt. Ninety percent of the time, it's fucking burnt, but no one complains, because Starbucks customers have long since succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome."

He snickers. "Well, I better give it a shot anyway so I can say I know what regular Starbucks tastes like before I experiment with your fancy drinks." He squints at the menu again. "Uhh. Which is small?"

"Tall."

He stares a moment longer. "That's fucking stupid."

"I know."

"Then I want a tall-small burnt coffee, I guess."

"Name?" you say, reaching for the Sharpie. You don't actually need to take names when it's this quiet, but you figure you might as well give him the complete Starbucks Experience, if that's what he's after.

"John Egbert," he says.

You roll your eyes. "I only need your first name, you dumb fuck." You tense up on instinct for swearing in front of a customer, but he just chuckles.

"Bruce then."

You glare at him and his grin widens. You don't know if you want to high-five him or strangle him. You write "John" on his cup and walk him through the rest of the transaction, going so far as to prepare his coffee yourself instead of passing it on to another coworker because why the fuck not? The last thing you want to deal with is a _new_ customer.

You call his name as if he isn't right there watching you make the damn drink. Might as well go all the way in letting him see the bland traditions of the store, shatter all his hopes and dreams that the international chain is anything special.

"Thanks Karkat," he says as if you're best buddies, taking the cup from you.

You grunt and wait for him to give it a try. The morning rush is taking its time today, so you feel no rush to get back to the second register -- your co-worker is more outgoing anyway, less likely to piss people off.

His face contorts and he spits out his tongue in disgust. "Oh my god, this really does taste burnt."

"I fucking warned you." You actually smirk a little. "Hang on." You double back, grabbing a fresh cup on your way to the machines. You fill it before you return to him. "The espresso's not as burnt today. This is your one freebie to make up for the crap coffee. Just don't tell my manager," you say as you slip him the cup.

He blinks but thanks you with another smile. "Hey, this is tolerable," he says after a quick sip.

You shrug. "That's about the best you can hope for around here."

He laughs. "Yeah, maybe Starbucks isn't all that it's cracked up to be. You're pretty cool though." He waves as he heads for the door. "See you around, Karkat!"

You're too thrown off to remember to bid him a store policy okay'd farewell or even wave a rude gesture after him like you'd normally be more inclined to do. You just stare after him until a coworker prods you to get back to the register as the swarm of the morning rush finally hits.

John comes back every morning that you're working from then on and never fails to take your advice on the day's least burnt brew. You go from having to pretend to tolerate the fucker to having to pretend you're not growing fond of him.

He surprises you by stopping by in the early evening for the first time one day, probably two months after you first met him -- oh dear god, why do you remember how long it's been off the top of your head? He makes sure to get in line for your register and orders two cups of "whatever's not crap today."

"So what are you doing here so late?" you ask as prepare his order, wondering what he needs the extra caffeine for. He's never ordered two drinks before that you can recall. "Didn't have your fill of overpriced beverage already today?"

He shrugs. "Well, you weren't here this morning, so I didn't know what to safely order."

"This might come as a shock to you, John, but I do have an existence outside of this godforsaken store." You push his drinks to him. "I don't sleep behind this counter."

He chuckles. "I know, that's exactly what I wanted to ask about. When's your shift over?"

"Two hours." You narrow your eyes. "Why?"

He holds the second cup of coffee to you. "Want to join me?"

You're startled silent as it slowly dawns on you what he's getting at. You snort. "The coffee's going to be cold by then, you fucking nimrod."

"I'll buy you a fresh cup."

You eye him. "Buy me a refreshment from any fucking place that isn't here and you've got a deal."

He beams. "Done."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know much about Starbucks, so I hope my depiction isn't off. I only ever get chai there (it really is terrible chai; I drink it anyway) and I had to use their website to learn anything about their menu, but I'm told their coffee tastes burnt. Heck, I don't like coffee and the sips I've borrowed off friends tasted burnt even to me.


End file.
